


Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover - A Phil Lester Fanfiction

by brookwrites



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Amazingphil - Freeform, Bullying, Fluff, HS AU, High School, High School AU, M/M, Oneshot, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, mentions of bullying, phanfic, phil lester x reader, phil lester/reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 09:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13096944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookwrites/pseuds/brookwrites
Summary: You’ve just moved to your third new school in a year, and you’re not looking forward to day one, especially when a punk kid decides to sit beside you in first period. But things get considerably better when this one decides he wants his lips on your face, not his fist.





	Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover - A Phil Lester Fanfiction

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mild sexual jokes, mentions of bullying and traumatic experiences

You stare at your converse as the car rolls to a stop. “It’s time to get out, Y/N.” Reluctantly, you pick you backpack up, slinging it around your shoulders. 

“Bye, Mom.” 

“Good luck!” 

You sigh, speaking in your usual quiet voice, adding a bit of an angsty tone this morning. “Thanks.” Shutting the door, you put one foot in front of the other and numbly walk to the school doors. You wish you could have transferred at the beginning of the school year; now, a few weeks into the year, all eyes will be on you.

Your biggest fear in this new school is bullies. It’s the same thing you’ve feared every day for years; you’re just finally healing up from the last school. You’ve moved schools multiple times in the last couple of years, and none of them have worked for you. There are always punks or bullies waiting to beat you up the second you step out of class. You can only hope this school will be different.

Class doesn’t start for about ten minutes, but you head straight to your first period anyway; you’ve found a good way to cope is to befriend your teachers for the short time you have them before transferring yet again.

You’ve found yourself at a fairly small school; there are only three main halls and 850 students. Your first class is at the end of the upstairs hall. You worry about having to make your way through a relentless crowd of seniors to try to get to class in the morning, but if you go early enough, like today, you’ll be fine. As you walk down the hallway, you take a quick glance at each door to look for little stickers some teachers place in the corner of their door windows that say, “safe space”. You’ve gotten used to looking for them at new schools; they tend to come in handy. Only about four doors out of fifteen have them, which is a bit disappointing, although you smile at the one door with two. The first thing you notice upon entering your first period geography class is that the door has a sticker. You exhale a breath you don’t know you’ve been holding in.

You introduce yourself to your new geography teacher, who, thankfully, seems to know you exist. You’ve come into plenty of new classrooms where teachers didn’t even know you were coming. “You can sit wherever you like,” she tells you. Instinctively, you take a seat on the end of the second to back row. The end is secluded and the back allows you to be antisocial, but the far back is where the hoodlums hang out. You’ve learned plenty of tricks in your day.

You immediately reach into your backpack and pull out the book you’re reading; you’ve read it plenty of times, but you open it to your bookmark and start reading anyway. You jump when the bell rings; the shrill sound sends a chill down your spine every time. Students start to file in, and they give you a bit of an odd look, but they take their seats quietly.

You tense up when you see a glimpse of a leather jacket going past the door. You exhale when it’s gone, but then it turns around and comes into the room. Wearing it is a boy with a jet-black fringe with a blue streak through it. He has a nose and lip piercing, and the look on his face makes you fear for your life. You keep your head in your book, but out of the corner of your eye you see him sit down beside you. Out of everywhere in the classroom, he had to choose to sit there?

No other punks seem to be in your class, which is a relief, but this one’s interest in you is terrifying. The bell rings again and the teacher stands in front of the class to speak. “Many of you may have noticed we have a new student today. Say hello, Y/N.” Your face turns red, your shy nature kicking in. Slowly, you set down your book and raise a hand.

“Hello.”

Your voice is higher than a seventeen-year-old male’s should be and it barely makes it a few feet before dissipating into the void. A few kids snicker and you pick the book up again. “Would anyone like to show Y/N around the school?”

The punk kid’s hand immediately shoots into the air. Looking around, you see a few kids surprised, a few terrified (for you, probably), and a few muttering about how he just wants to get out of class. “Excellent, Phil. You and Y/N may be excused.” Does she not know she’s sending you to your doom?

Heart full of dread, you slide out of your seat and head to the door alongside… Phil. After stepping outside, you delicately close the door and step out in front of the locker beside the classroom, putting your fists up to your face to block it. “I know you’re going to beat me up. Just get it over with already.”

“What?” Phil asks, a look of surprise and concern crossing his face. “No! I don’t want to hurt you! I just wanted to show you around. I like your fashion statement. There aren’t that many punks in this school either.” 

You cautiously lower your hands, unsure of what to do. A punk’s never declined to beat you up before. “Oh… Okay, then.” 

“Did punks beat you up at your old school?” Slowly, you begin to nod. “Sad. I honestly think you’re really cute.” You blush, and in the brief silence, Phil gasps. “I don’t mean that in a childish way… I just like the way you look, that’s all.”

You laugh; that’s not something you expected to be doing today. “I get what you mean. Thanks.” You eye Phil up and down. “If the punk look didn’t bring back horrific memories, I’d say you look pretty hot yourself.”

“Oh, well these clothes aren’t necessary, you know. I look just fine without them.”

At this you simply snort, a smile crossing your face. “I’ve known you for about a minute and we’re already making sex jokes.” You pause for a moment. “I’m not opposed.”

“To what? The jokes or the sex?” 

“The former,” you say, deciding to take a risk and add on after a few seconds of silence. “and a less extreme version of the latter.” It’s eerily quiet for a moment before Phil stops walking. 

“This is the boys bathroom,” he says, pointing to a door to his right. The sign is worn down, the door is covered in graffiti, and you doubt it’s been used for its original function in years. “It’s where kids go to make out. Want a closer look?” Phil is holding a hand out to you. You see a tattoo of a few simple words. 

Not all those who wander are lost.

Grinning, you take the hand and walk into the bathroom with Phil. “Lord of the Rings, huh?”

He smiles. “Just goes to show you should never judge a book by its cover.”

You roll your eyes. “I’ll only kiss you if you agree to never make a pun that bad again.”

“Don’t know if I can do that…” he pauses, a smirk crossing his face. “Maybe if you’ll go out with me Friday night I could consider it.” 

“Deal.” And then your lips connect with Phil’s and you feel happy–really, truly, happy–for the first time in months. Something tells you this new school won’t be too bad after all.


End file.
